Chapter Text
defy me;
The snowfall that had turned into rain hammered against the bedroom window as fingertips trailed over spine, rushing the shivers to dash along his skin. It could’ve been the cold air, the lack of cover over his upper body, but that wasn’t it. He couldn’t decide if it felt the same as it did hours ago; if it was suppose to raise so many questions instead of being final, as simple as an answer why water melted ice. Why was it the calm before the storm, when it should’ve been the first flur of snow that ended a season? It wasn’t supposed to have a continuum, but Donghae’s fingers and the hot breaths lingering over his shoulder caused the waves inside his stomach to return, and flashes of the night to take Hyukjae back to the moments filled with shortened breaths and tremblings of muscle, where every touch spoke louder than any word could ever do.
Lying alone between the cold sheets would’ve been easy.
Hyukjae listened closely, waiting for the vanishing point of everything there had been, until Donghae shifted under the sheets behind him and cleared his hoarse throat.
“Hey.”
Hyukjae felt the hand rising from his stomach to his waist, grunting as a way to tell Donghae he was awake. The fingers hovered over his skin except the thumb that drew circles under it.
“I need to go.” The spoken words were lackadaisy. Donghae’s movements slow and tacky, yet the touch on Hyukjae’s waist was far from it.
It didn’t make any sense.
“Work starts in an hour.”
Hyukjae couldn’t find the willpower to open his eyes, and it didn’t seem like Donghae was expecting him to wake up with him either.
It took him a minute to give Donghae an answer, face still buried tight against the pillow, his mouth so dry that it made his voice sound like gravel. “Okay.”
There was none of the tension in the air he’d gotten used to with Donghae, even if it wasn’t usually there when they were alone. But the circumstances had changed. Ending up having sex with a friend was ought to change things. So why was it as if it was the other way around; where was the awkwardness, the regret of doing something that wasn’t supposed to happen?
Hyukjae had to bite down on his lips.
Waking up to cuddles or gentle kisses hadn’t been what he’d had in mind, but neither was this. Why was Donghae still there? What where the lazy strokes and touches about? They weren’t supposed to be there, yet he wanted nothing but be consumed by them. It was puzzling, frustrating. Having a one night stand with a stranger usually followed the same pattern. It was fun while it lasted, but he’d yet to wake up next to someone like Donghae, who didn’t expect anything from it all, yet there was the questionable hover in the air, the uncertainty. One night stands should have been gone before Hyukjae woke up to the day. He wasn’t quite awake yet, but Donghae remained. It was a first. And it caused his head to ache and the swirls inside to knot up.
When Donghae sat up on the bed, lifting the rest of the blanket over Hyukjae, he couldn’t help but wait for a conclusion, an ending, the obvious which never came. His fingers were curled up against the corner of his pillow, eyes sewn shut as a weight left the mattress and clothes started to shuffle in the background.
Then it was silent.
He wasn’t sure if what he heard was Donghae taking a step back, contemplating to do something. It was too early to look for straight lines, and although he wanted to open his mouth to get to the answers, he couldn’t do it. He was afraid another word could’ve shattered the glass, the transparent shield around the two of them. He didn’t want it to break.
Thoughts swaying back and forth without a proper beginning nor an end, his bedroom door was opened, followed with a shamble of steps, and for the first time he let his eyes open as he reached for his phone on the floor. Eyes gazed around the empty room, and the digitals on the screen told him it was 8:32am. With tired moves he let the gadget fall next to him, and his own spent body back to the mattress. The front door clacked and closed with a thud. Donghae was gone.
Before drifting back into a deep slumber, it wasn’t the rain or the temperature that left him cold. It was the scent that he’d gotten addicted to, the touched that burned even after hours. He’d gotten hooked with something that most likely didn’t have a cure for. The one he’d wanted to get rid of in the beginning; the one that was slowly fading and exchanging places with memories that were too raw and real. He couldn’t just push away the moments of ecstazy in the dark hazels, the way fingernails dug into his waist, or the unfinished sentence at the end that wouldn’t tell the core reason of it all.
That party was nothing different; music with boosted bass, cheap alcohol flowing through unstable legs, vague conversations and sloppy kisses with strangers. It was his scene, yet he felt like a static figure trapped in a snow globe as if there was an opague glass dome between him and the world. All of it, the usual familiarity, was gone. The moment he’d stepped in the house he couldn’t recall an owner for he’d been submerged within the hurricane rummaging inside. His body hadn’t answered to the electronic music, even to his favorite songs, he couldn’t keep up with gossip and he just couldn’t give a damn about anything. At the beginning of the night he’d grabbed a few drinks, but after few hours, even the alcohol wasn’t enough to stop the hellfire blazing.
It had been a week, and Hyukjae was lost.
Why was everything so fucking confusing? Why couldn’t he forget like everyone else?
Why was he the one able to see through layers, the one able to see glimpses of the guy Donghae really was, to see what was beneath the surface? Why did it feel so good to be able to cause a crack in the rock shield no one else could open? He’d gotten a taste of it, so how could he ever stop wanting the rest? The storm that grew stronger behind the dark eyes, the way they lit up when Hyukjae had moaned out loud or quivered in pleasure because of his sinfully beautiful actions, was maddening. How could he free himself from something that wasn’t anything to begin with?
He’d been glued to the couch for god knew for how long, and he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to be there, but he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t steer his gaze away from the familiar mop of dyed hair he’d been following like a shark in shallow waters. He was driving himself crazy. He wanted to walk to Donghae, to open his fucking mouth and force him to tell him everything that ran inside his head. He wanted the rest of the world to disappear so he wouldn’t need to gather the courage to face the younger.
“Hyukjae, are you in or out?” Kyuhyn hollered in the middle of a song that felt like acid in Hyukjae’s ears. It was the same song that had played when Heechul had told him the dare two weeks ago.
Sitting in safety, slumped in the corner of the couch, Hyukjae swung his head. “I’ll pass.”
He couldn’t possibly play the game that had gotten him into this in the first place.
Hyukjae let the back of his head fall to the couch’s armrest, closing his eyes as he tried to ignore the surprise on his best friend’s face.
“The hell?”
Getting back to the usual should’ve helped. Drinking and having fun should’ve been the way to oblivion, to a place he didn’t need to be haunted with the endless questions, the need to be close again, the desire to turn back time.
“Is he high on something?” Irene’s voice echoed somewhere close, failing at being subtle. It was half a joke, half serious. But even if his name was called, it wasn’t able to wake Hyukjae up from his daze. She watched the guy with a tilted head and furrowed eyebrows, giving a concerned glance towards Kyuhyun on her right side on the floor.
It was the first time Hyukjae had counted himself out of his own game.
Kyuhyun gave the guy sitting on the couch a death glare, but before managing to grunt an annoyed answer, Heechul put in to the conversation with a devilish smirk.
“Or someone.”
Kyuhyun scoffed back. “That dork?”
Heechul eyed Hyukjae and the line of the raven haired boy’s sight, taking a note of the frustrated glimmer in the almond of Hyukjae’s eyes that were hauled to a lean back turned towards them.
“Oh,” Irene mouthed, the only voice tangible in the noise. “Oh. Well damn.”
Hyukjae wasn’t able to hear any of it. He was in too deep. In too deep in the shit that was dressed in gray biker jeans, an oversized black tank top and a hoodie with a drawn motorcycle printed at the back, the familiar collared shirt tied around his waist. Even in the midst of the darkness and dozens of sloshed teenagers, Donghae was the only one he saw.
There was no trace of the smile Hyukjae had only seen visiting the boy’s face when they’d been alone. Donghae fit the scene, but he wasn’t in his element. He was confident but withdrawn, lively to a point that was like a line the boy wouldn’t cross. And even if Hyukjae was sitting meters away from him, the smell of pepper, hot sweat and sweet and tangy citrus fruit filled his nose like a splash of cold water, as if it was something he was conditioned to smell if a mere thought of Donghae surfaced.
But it didn’t take too long before a new crew of guys walked in, towards the ones, including Donghae, who hung around the open space behind the main living room. Hyukjae watched the scene with furrowed eyebrows, seeing how the tension fell immediately around them. It took a minute, but the guys were from the neighboring college, the rivaling lacrosse team. Before the winter break there had been a game that had caused controversy, and it had increased the friction between the two teams.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
Hyukjae could smell the smoke rising, the curious eyes turning when sentences begun to heat. Donghae was in the middle of it, being their team’s trusted goalie. And if he was provoked enough, Donghae found the exact words to get under people’s skin.
He noted the gritting of teeth, the guy from the other team already rowing about something he couldn’t make any sense of from so afar.
Shoulders tensed up as he sat a bit up from the couch, calling out for his friends’ attention, “Guys.”
Heechul rose his gaze to Hyukjae, following the loud voices over the music to the sight of two teams barking at each other. With a groan, Heechul sat up as well as he understood the warning.
Heechul walked straight to Hyukjae to pull him up from the seat.
“What’s going on?” Irene asked, craning on her knees to see what was happening at the other side of the house.
Hyukjae saw the first shove of arms and chests.
Heechul’s eyes narrowed to a scowl. “Testosterone,” he huffed before disappearing into the sea of people who were too drunk to notice anything happening around them.
Hyukjae’s body was heavy as concrete, and it took him a second to get himself on the move. He had no idea why Heechul had urged him with him, but he rarely managed to disagree with the guy, so he followed him, only to halt halfway to the shouts of rage, snarls and glimpses of fists starting to fly across the teams.
In the distance, Hyukjae heard Heechul’s growl.
“For fuck’s sake.”
Blood boiling he rushed after him, pushing others out of his way.
It didn’t really surprise him when he saw fingers curling around a collar, a head butting another for a clear reply, then the fist collision of right hook and cheekbone. He didn’t hear himself shouting Donghae’s name to deaf ears when a male from the rivaling team, who Donghae had just punched, toppled him over down to the floor, answering with a furious shove against the left side of Donghae’s face.
“Enough!” Heechul shouted, trying to tear them away from each other before things would escalade to worse things than bruised cheeks and hurting egos. He grabbed the guy’s shirt who was close to smashing Donghae’s bones to pieces, ripping them apart. Hyukjae had rarely heard his senior talking with such a savage tone.
“Get outta here before I get mad.”
It was probably Heechul’s reputation or the piercing steel of his voice that caused the guy to throw him a hasty glance before taking a staggering step away.
Hyukjae stood a little frozen behind them, side-eyeing the situation as Donghae’s teammates pulled the groaning boy up from the floor. But Donghae shook himself off from his helpers, still too far high on his anger that he couldn’t distinguish a friend from the enemy. The guys from his team lifted their hands up in surrender as Donghae had once mistakenly punched one of them, and no one really wanted to take that chance again.
Clenching his teeth, Hyukjae stepped forward and stopped the furious boy on his tracks, clasping his fingers around the front of his tank top. “Donghae.”
Fiery eyes stared back at him, and for a moment there was nothing but the sharp breaths and Hyukjae’s overpowering posture that could’ve caused a clash if it was anyone else defying Donghae than him. During another fight some time ago, Hyukjae had been the only one managing to calm the younger down. He hadn’t been sure if it would work this time, but the blaze in the eyes was already turning into a cloud of soft smoke. The surroundings faded as he stared into the calming storm, letting his grip lighten as muscles started to relax. He licked his lip, looking at Donghae from under his eyebrows.
He let his hand fall from the shirt when a quivering exhale escaped the lips.
“I...” Donghae clenched his jaw. “I better get some air.”
Hyukjae’s eyes went through the muddled hazels, nodding as Donghae’s shoulders sank.
And the boy was gone.
Hyukjae let out a breath, raising his fingers to massage the boiling veins on his temples. Donghae had always been a hot-head, yet the fire that made his blood boil was something entirely contradict to anger. It took him a while to get back to the present and the surroundings, the curious eyes and the music that felt louder than it had been before.
As the last trembles of thrill subsided, Hyukjae noticed the smirk on the curve of Heechul’s lips as people started to scatter away.
“What?” he hissed as he rode his fingers through his mess of a hair.
The cheshire smile on Heechul’s face widened.
“So I was right.”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
There was no answer to his question, but the smile didn’t falter. “Go check on him. I’ll get him some ice for that,” Heechul noted, flicking his head towards the terrace where the hot wheels had just disappeared to.
Hyukjae’s eyes followed Heechul’s back as his senior marched towards the kitchen and started to go through the frigerator’s boxes. The remains of the fight were still hovering in the air, the tension cutting through like a knife. Most of the guys from the other school, the rivaling lacrosse team, had already left and the party was about to continue as usual. Fingers clenched, Hyukjae finally turned to take a glance through the window where Donghae sat on the terrace stairs, throwing an empty beer can across the yard as hard as he could. With a sigh, Hyukjae snatched two beer bottles from the kitchen island before stepping out in to the cold night.
If it had been snowstorms the week before, since the morning Donghae had left his apartment it had been raining cats and dogs. And although he preferred the white snow to getting drenched in pouring rain, it was something he’d started to associate with Donghae’s fingers drawing along his spine and breaths meeting his skin. He hadn’t been able to shake off the same thing every morning he opened his eyes, and it was starting to feel like a recurring nightmare.
And for a moment Hyukjae stopped to just take in the sight. He hadn’t seen Donghae during the week as it was winter break and Donghae had filled his free time with shifts at the auto repair shop. He hadn’t really found the courage to make contact either, and in a way, Hyukjae had needed the time to think.
He wasn’t sure if it were the remnants of the fight that got adrenaline pumping louder through his veins or the fact that it would be the first time facing the other after the night when he took hesitant steps across the terrace.
Donghae pulled his black hood over his head as Hyukjae sat down next to him and placed the bottles between his spread knees. The hood and the sandy hair managed to cover the other half of the boy’s sulking face that had gotten hit, but Hyukjae saw the red cut on the edge of Donghae’s lip.
It wasn’t anything new; Donghae had a tendency to get into fights, and he’d seen some bruises and cuts before. But this time, everything felt different. It might not be wise to touch him again. Nothing had really changed between them, yet things weren’t the same. Donghae hadn’t ignored him on purpose as far as Hyukjae could tell, but they hadn’t talked anything about the night spent together either. And for some reason, it didn’t bother as much as he thought it would. But he couldn’t deny that every second he was close to Donghae he got more attached. And it terrified him. He was torn between happening and not happening, yet the interspace between everything, the place where he had no idea what it all meant, was the worst.
As he watched the sunken body staring down into nothingness from his peripheral vision, any fear he previously had, was gone. And Hyukjae heard the voice inside his head shouting like a mad man when he reached his hand towards Donghae’s face, trying to brush the hair out of his forehead. But Donghae dodged, gritting his teeth and lowering his gaze to the stairs under them.
“I’m fine.”
At first, Hyukjae felt a punch of his own. But something in him couldn’t take no for an answer. He glared the boy and clicked his tongue, succeeding to make Donghae to turn back towards him. For a moment, Donghae stared at him, hazel wavering.
“Just show me for fuck’s sake,” Hyukjae sighed, grabbing from the edge of the hood to prevent any backing off. His hand rose again to brush of the coarse hair hiding the purplish mark around Donghae’s left eye, and as he observed the stupid battle scars, he noted the eyes that hid something of their own. It caused the chills to return, as the look was so similar to the one that was there a week ago when Donghae had topped him on the couch between countless kisses.
And when their gazes collided, Donghae was the one to first shake himself away from it.
“Yeah, you’re going to be fine,” Hyukjae said at last, pulling his hand away as he let his tongue slide over his lower lip. But he couldn’t steer his eyes away. Was he the only one affected, or had the eyes already told him the truth way before?
Without another word, he took a bottle of beer from the stairs, giving it to the other. Donghae took the bottle quietly, opening the cap and taking an eager sip from it, swaying his head around in annoyance that still hadn’t dissipated. But every minute that passed, Hyukjae felt the tension melting. He wanted the other to calm down from his anger before even trying anything else.
It seemed to pay off when Donghae lowered the bottle from his hands back to the wooden stairs.
Donghae cursed under his heavy breath, nudging his shoulders. “Fuck, I hate people.” His voice was tired, but the tone had softened. He didn’t sound like he was about to give a punch anymore.
Hyukjae fiddled the neck of his own bottle between his fingers, mulling what to answer. But he really didn’t need to filter his words with Donghae.
“All of them?”
A lazy, slow smirk rose to frame the thin lips after a minute, shifting off the weight from Hyukjae’s shoulders.
“I hate everyone,” Donghae murmured, his voice merely a whisper. His eyes were lowered downward, his hands resting against his thighs. “I hate everyone except you. You’re ok.”
Hyukjae watched the boy, the dark contrast around the lightened hair, the red cut on the lips which taste he wanted more of. The words sounded as honest as ever; Donghae really wasn’t a people person even if he managed to chameleon his way to make others think otherwise. But Hyukjae couldn’t decide for sure if it was just a joke, or if it was at least part of a truth. If it was meant to mean more than it was.
He watched as a tattooed hand pulled a packet out of a pocket, how fingers flicked a lighter over a cigarette before a flame appearead. As Donghae inhaled and straightened his back a little, Hyukjae bit the inside of his cheek. The boy’s dark orbs eyed the stick before taking puff. Had Donghae become his nicotine; the forbidden fruit that would become his downfall? Donghae was sexy, he made him tick in ways no one ever had, and sex with him had been so much more than it was supposed to be. Since the night his expectations had been turned over, and he didn’t even hate it.
As Donghae shifted, waking Hyukjae up from his stupor, a gray puff of air escaped through the lips as Hyukjae side-eyed the sight. All of it, everything, had become his favorite sin.
The boy lifted his gaze back at him, eyes darting through. There were curiosity in the hazel, a hint of tension that wasn’t quite the same as few minutes ago. It was like the uncertainty Hyukjae had seen when Donghae’s hands had tucked from his belt moments before bodies had tangled with each other.
“What?” Hyukjae murmured, the words slipping somewhere from his throat.
Donghae cleared his throat, searching for the words for a little too long. Hyukjae had a sudden urge to get a reaction of any kind, and when he leaned in to snatch the cigarette from Donghae’s fingers, it caused the latter to wince. The look of suprise was evident, but when Hyukjae stole a puff, crooked teeth bit down on lips. “Do you regret it?”
He inhaled another puff, trying to hide the sudden shivers that shook him. The question wasn’t something he’d waited to hear, but he knew exactly what Donghae was talking about, and the thunder soared under his ribcage again in erratic intervals. But he sucked up the fear; the fear that could’ve consumed him whole if he’d let it.
“Should I?” he grunted, offering the cigarette back to its owner. As it was taken back, fingers brushed along other.
Donghae’s eyes were dark and telling, and the air was soft and heavy to breathe in. The same kind of longing was flickering behind it all, and Hyukjae wanted to own it, just take a grip of it and never let go.
“No.”
And it was as if something clicked, as if something found its place during the darkness of the night.
Yet the air still hitched at Hyukjae’s throat when Donghae leaned towards him and lips brushed lips. It was something brief, not a hello or a goodbye, not a desperate kiss of lovers in the rain. There was a taste of cigarette and alcohol, a hint of iron, something sweet, and even if Hyukjae had kissed lips that had been more soft, more safe than this, Donghae’s were the ones that made him push back to leave a sensation of hot tongues circling in the other’s mouth.
Donghae halted for a second as if a message finally got through.
When the terrace door finally opened with a creak, and even if Hyukjae didn’t see who was coming, he pulled back an inch, leaving behind a shortened breath that wasn’t his own.
“To be continued,” he mouthed before standing up. And as he passed Heechul holding a pack of ice, he felt the corner of his lips finally taking a hesitant turn up.
It was the little alcohol he’d drank early to the night or the kiss that had kept Hyukjae awake till the hours when night started to turn into morning. The same thoughts still circled inside his head even if there was a slight contrast to everything there had been before. The same questions were still without an answer, the emotions still the same thunder waiting for a lightning to clear the darkness away.
Turning over to his stomach, Hyukjae groped for his phone that laid somewhere close. He couldn’t shake off the image of lips that had leaned against his. He still saw the longing flashing in front of his eyes, and it was too much, yet he only wanted it back. When the fingers finally found the phone, Hyukjae checked the time. It was 4:23am, and he’d already been tossing and turning in his own bed for hours since he’d left the party just minutes after Donghae had kissed him.
He wasn’t sure why he’d left, but it was as if everything he’d thought could’ve been lost, was actually found.
And the moment he was about to let the phone fall back to the mattress, it rang.
The electronic ringtone echoed inside the dark empty room, freezing time. The loud thuds on his chest seemed to want to saw through him, but he forced himself to look at the screen, the flashing light and the powerful name on it.
Swallowing hard and trying to normalize his breaths, Hyukjae swiped his finger over the green icon. At first he couldn’t hear anything but breaths not of his own, as if the silence was daunting him to speak up.
“It’s four in the morning,” he finally said.
“But you’re awake,” Donghae’s voice replied.
Hyukjae sat up on the bed, fiddling the sheets. Donghae’s scent still lingered.
“I...” Donghae continued, hesitant. “Can I come up?”
Hyukjae’s heart must’ve skipped a beat.
“What?”
There was hint of a chuckle Hyukjae almost missed.
“It’s a shit storm out here, and the front door’s locked.”
Hyukjae heard the sharp drops drumming against his window as his head turned like a damned washing machine waiting for something to pull the plug so the thoughts running mile high would stop.
“Downstairs. Get your ass here, now. I saw the light at your window. I’m freezing.”
Hyukjae felt his fingers trembling. “Just a sec.”
As if there was a sudden energy rushing through his veins, the possibility for sleep disappeared into the back of his mind when he jumped off his bed. It was a struggle of mind and body to get out of his apartment; finding his keys took too long and the elevator was damned slow, and it felt like forever to find his way to the front door in the dark because he couldn’t find a switch to turn on the light.
His head was speeding too fast at that time of the night.
In a way he expected it to be a bad joke or a nightmare. It was too ordinary, too typical of Donghae to appear in the middle of the night just because he felt so or his brother might’ve kicked him out again. It was too soon after the kiss. He could’ve seen another week going by without anything changing directions, everything falling back to what it used to be and the one time they had happened sinking into oblivion without another word.
Although he’d been called fucking sexy along with heavy breaths and owning thrusts he hadn’t thought the words could’ve really meant anything beyond the moment.
And as Hyukjae walked past a corner and the dim light behind the glass front door shone through, he could’ve just passed out from the mere agony of it all and the anxiety tightening around him as he saw Donghae leaning against the wall, the sandy beach now darkened by the water falling from the sky.
Why had he let Donghae fuck him—and not the least his mind?
Hyukjae almost tripped over the treshold as he reached the front door looming ahead of him. With a deep inhale, he turned the handle, opening the door to meet hazy eyes that devoured him alive with a tired curl at lips’ end.
“Tripping sober,” Donghae said with a half-ass grin. “Took you long enough.”
Cratching the nonexistent itch on his neck, Hyukjae answered with a scoff as he let the boy walk past him. All the words, everything he could’ve said, just disappeared from his head the moment the scent of motor oil hit his head like a hammer, the spices following suit.
How was he supposed to act like nothing ever happened?
Hyukjae was far from fearless when they stepped into the elevator in silence before the only thing splitting it was the engines humming. The metallic box had never made him feel so claustrophobic as it did now, when the boy with a bruised eye and cut lip stood lazily next to him.
He couldn’t help but curse at the back of his mind when his tongue betrayed him.
“Why’d you come?”
Donghae tossed his neck, leaning against the mirror on the wall behind them. He turned his head to give Hyukjae a nonchalant shrug.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He already regretted it. “Is that all?”
Donghae walked out of the elevator, which Hyukjae hadn’t noticed, had already stopped at its tracks. The shivers crept along his back, but he’d be lying to himself if he’d said it was because of the dark hallway, and not the boy he’d let into his apartment again.
He didn’t wait for an answer when he opened the door, walking in first just to shut the devil on his shoulder from mocking him. The quietness was corroding as he halted, waiting for the fire to catch him. He couldn’t turn and face the young man. Everything about him took him back to the night, and it was a dangerous game. But the deck had already been dealt, and he’d been left to deal with the consequences.
Taking a deep breath, Hyukjae tried to find any piece of the courage he’d had during the party. But as he turned to face Donghae, collecting himself in order to say something, anything, it was all for nothing. Donghae looked at him, his wet hair dripping over his bruised eye, as he let his hoodie drop to the floor. It felt like an eternity and a split of a second as Donghae walked to him, taking off the tank top that had previously licked his muscles. Hyukjae’s eyes dropped and rose as the hazels gazing back at him stole the ground from under his feet.
It was still the same. Donghae made all sense and gravity disappear, and he didn’t even mind.
The distance shortened way too soon, and Donghae was already too damn close.
And Hyukjae could only succumb.
The only thing that mattered at that point were the breaths mingling with his own, the lips waiting to collide with his. The drumms inside him wouldn’t subside, and he was going crazy, he wanted to escape and he wanted to get caught. A cold hand was lifted over his waist, brushing over the clothed skin as if they were trying to defy him, provoke, to force him to make the first move that would cause a shift.
“Oh, fuck you.” The words were a whisper escaping Hyukjae’s lips as he just couldn’t take it anymore, and it was a mess of lips and sharp breaths that had been held in for too long, with Hyukjae pulling the boy close as the hand on his waist snuck under his shirt at last.
Donghae’s breaths against his lips in between the kisses, teeth crazing soft skin, Hyukjae felt them all through his bones, lighting up the fire that had been smoldering in for so long. And it all burst into hot burning flames when Donghae breathed in, pushing them against Hyukjae’s bedroom door.
“I didn’t think this would happen again,” Hyukjae murmured against the lips that didn’t want to let him go.
“Then you were wrong.”